


the seasons have changed and so have we

by write_away



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, i didn't want to angst but i did, just a little angst im sorry, on the bright side we have Gavroche and Enjolras bonding, which isn't exactly common?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 15:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_away/pseuds/write_away
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>As it turns out, Gavroche is on the roof.</i><br/>Upset and angry, Gavroche runs away. Enjolras and Courfeyrac calm him down and maybe come to a new understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the seasons have changed and so have we

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RevolutionariesDontWearPlaid (GhostGrantaire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGrantaire/gifts).



> I've been super excited to write this fic for the exhcange! Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, depending on how you see it), I didn't have the time to execute my full plan, so instead, I have decided to gift a little excerpt/sneak peek/deleted scene. No worries - not only does it stand on my own, but in time, you will also receive the full-fledged fic! 
> 
> Title from "The Ice Is Getting Thinner" by Death Cab for Cutie
> 
> My sincerest apologies for not being able to finish my plan in time, but I really hope you enjoy this to tide you over.  
> My prompts:  
> "I would love something between Gavroche and Eponine, showing their dynamics as siblings in a modern AU. Or between Gavroche and any of les amis, perhaps if Eponine was in a relationship with someone. Maybe if Eponine achieved custody of Gavroche from the Thenardiers? Please no Enjonine though."  
> "Basically I want more Courferre (modern au) with mutual pining. It'd be great if it was a first meeting sort of thing and they both instantly fell for each other and Courfeyrac goes to Cosette and Marius, while Combeferre goes to Enjolras, before they finally work it out."
> 
> I only managed to get a hint of the second one in, but I hope you enjoy all the same!

As it turns out, Gavroche is on the roof.

Enjolras is about to storm over, to shout about how worried they’ve been, how _terrifying_ it was when they noticed he’d slipped away, how his heart is still trying to crawl out of his throat with his churning stomach, but then the boy turns around and he can’t bring himself to do anything but stare back. His eyes are wide in sadness like Grantaire’s.

Combeferre wastes no time in turning on his heel and fleeing back down the stairs, dialing his phone as he runs. Enjolras sees Courfeyrac’s cheeks flush – maybe in embarrassment, maybe in anger. He’s not sure. They’ll have to talk later, once things settle, once he can get the details of what exactly went wrong in that room earlier.

Gavroche glares at them for a moment, the picture of stubborn defiance, and they stare back until he rolls his eyes. In one fluid motion, he collapses onto the broken lawn chair and curls his knees into his chest.

“Sorry,” he mutters, eyes blinking too fast.

Courfeyrac makes a quiet sound of distress, but Enjolras grabs him by the wrist. “ _No_ ,” he whispers, because he refuses to be left alone with a crying child, even if that child is twelve and would vehemently deny that his eyes are about to overflow.

Gavroche, for his credit, doesn’t cry, though Enjolras feels his own eyes start to prick just by watching his big brown eyes water. Courfeyrac hides a sniffle with a cough. No one moves to close the distance stretched even further by a carpet of mid-February, smog-discolored ice and slush.

“Please come inside,” Enjolras pleads after a moment. He can hear the others at the foot of the stairs presumably being fended off by Combeferre, but that can’t last long, and Gavroche will be furious if everyone barges in at once. “Grantaire is worried sick.”

Gavroche crosses his arms, otherwise schooling his face into an emotionless mask. “Yeah right.”

Enjolras opens his mouth with red hot fury in his tongue so he can tell him exactly how ill Grantaire is, curled up in bed with tremors and nausea, but Courfeyrac cuts in. “Your sister’s been calling,” he says.

“Now _that’s_ a joke,” Gavroche says with a snort. He burrows into his too-large coat and slumps into the chair. “You sure it wasn’t an accident?”

“Why would it be an accident?” Enjolras asks and inches forward, Courfeyrac’s still in hand. This, he can do. This, he can handle. Rationalizing is what Enjolras likes to consider a forte.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Twelve year old logic, however, is something new. Enjolras and Courfeyrac stop in their track atop of particularly slippery patch of roof.

“Because,” Courfeyrac says, and his voice cracks as he extracts himself from Enjolras’ grip with a sharp tug, “She loves you. I don’t know your sister that well, but I know she likes to talk to people she loves.”

“Well, duh. Why would she wanna call me when she’s got _Irma_ now?” Gavroche raises his eyebrows as if trying to dare them and it strikes Enjolras how similar he looks to Grantaire when he does that.

He has to stop himself from laughing. _Of course_ this is the issue. He’s not sure how they hadn’t managed to figure it out in the two and a half days of sullen moods and scowls, but it’s so clear now, like it’s been a month since he cleaned his glasses and it’s a new world through the lenses.

Enjolras carefully slides over to the lawn chair and drops next to Gavroche, who squirms further away. “Is that what you’re all worked up about?”

Courfeyrac takes out his phone and starts punching into the keypad, eyebrows drawn. “You’re calling your sister now,” he demands.

Enjolras holds up a hand and gives him a stern look. “Slow down, Courf. Let’s not jump the gun again.” Calling Eponine the first time had been disaster enough. “Let’s talk first.”

Gavroche barks out a laugh. “What’s there to talk about? Go ahead, call my sister, I don’t care.” He sits up and the coat slips off his shoulder. He looks younger, but also more incensed, his eyes alight with anger and hurt instead of fear and sorrow. “She doesn’t care either! She only cares because if she doesn’t that means she’s Mom - and the only thing she wants in life is to never be Mom.” He stands as if to challenge Courfeyrac, but Courfeyrac does nothing but hold his phone limply. “Eponine’s got her new fancy job now, she’s got her new friends, she’s got _Irma_ , and they’re going to get married and adopt little annoying babies and leave me with Azelma, and she doesn’t need me or Grantaire anymore, so who cares?” Gavroche finishes his rant with scarlet cheeks and a heaving chest.

Courfeyrac stuffs his phone in his pocket. “Maybe we should talk.”

Gavroche ignores him and spins to glare at Enjolras. “And I thought Grantaire would be on my side! I thought this weekend would be _us_. Me and him, like always. And then _you_ ruined that with your friends and your party and your stupid fight! You’re all he talks about anymore.”

Enjolras feels his face drain. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah.” Gavroche’s eyes have finally spilled over, leaving wet tracks down his splotchy face. “I figured.” He wipes the tears and snot away, not bothering to be subtle about it. “I thought you were broken up and I was _happy_ except that didn’t make Grantaire happy, and it’s all because of you.”

"Um,” Courfeyrac says. He’s inched off the ice by now, but he still stands carefully as if it might creep under him again. “I think we’re getting off topic, so maybe we –”

“Oh, shut up!” Gavroche shouts so loudly that his voice echoes. “You’re just as bad. I thought that if R _had_ to have his stupid boyfriend, I’d have you, but even _you’re_ pining over _Combeferre_. If you can’t bear to pay attention to me, then you might as well _do_ something about him before he runs away like I did.”

Courfeyrac looks like he’s been slapped.

“We’re paying attention to you,” Enjolras says softly. “You know we care, Gav.”

“Yeah?” Gavroche sits down heavily. “What time did I disappear?”

Enjolras can’t answer.

He sighs, and the cold air soothes him. “Listen,” Enjolras says and tries to meet Gavroche’s eye. “I’m not perfect. None of us are. We made a mistake and it won’t happen again. I know I’m not Grantaire, I’m just –” He pauses for a moment, bites his lip. Gavroche watches him with narrowed eyes until he continues. “I’m just his boyfriend, and I mess up all the time, and I’m _sorry._ But you can’t just run away because you think nobody cares, because that’s not true.”

“Joly and Bossuet have been calling the subway stations to see if they’ve seen you,” Courfeyrac adds. “Feuilly started searching the streets. Bahorel wanted to start searching ditches. Jehan wants to call the police, and Marius and Cosette are doing everything they can to calm Grantaire down, because he _literally_ made himself sick with worry over you.”

“The only reason we didn’t check the roof first,” Enjolras says, “was because we didn’t think you’d stay this close if you were mad.” He smiles and slings an arm around his shoulders. “We screw up all the time – hell, we’re breaking every rule Eponine’s ever made and she might kill us when she gets home – but you’ve _got_ to know we love you.”

Gavroche licks his lips and sighs, relaxing into Enjolras. “Can I call my sister?” he asks, his voice not more than a whisper.

Courfeyrac hands over the phone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please, feedback would be highly appreciated! I'd love to hear what you think.


End file.
